


Something of your own, No one else can have

by Lovely_Destruction



Series: Despite Your Past, I Love Your Future [1]
Category: The Witcher (TV)
Genre: F/F, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-11
Updated: 2020-07-11
Packaged: 2021-03-05 02:20:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,975
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25196836
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lovely_Destruction/pseuds/Lovely_Destruction
Summary: Tissaia's been around a while, maybe she's lost someone in that time, maybe a certain violet eyed mage is caught in the mix somehow.
Relationships: Tissaia De Vries/Original Female Character(s), Tissaia de Vries/Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg
Series: Despite Your Past, I Love Your Future [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1878913
Comments: 14
Kudos: 37





	Something of your own, No one else can have

**Author's Note:**

> First Witcher fanfic. Bought the books haven't started them, but loved the show! hope you enjoy my dabble into the Continent.

Tissaia was young, fresh from her ascension at Aretuza and she had been placed in a small kingdom part of the greater Northern Kingdoms. The ruler of this small Kingdom was King Rodak. His late wife died birthing his only child heir. A daughter. The princess was unlike any Tissaia had met before, she was a mere sixteen years the year Tissaia came to work at their court. Because the girl was her father’s only heir he trained her completely to rule and care for their small kingdom. She had been training to fight since she could hold a sword and knew very well the inner workings of court life.

It was not what Tissaia expected from her placement post-training at Aretuza. In fact, Tissaia should have known she would have her hands full from her ascension ball.

She danced with King Rodak for most of it, but on the last song, the princess intercepted, insisting she get to know Tissaia. She led quite well, slightly taller than Tissaia. She was wearing a burgundy coloured dress with a low collar, a pendant bearing her Kingdom’s crest hung around her neck.

“A pleasure to meet you, princess,” Tissaia murmurs, inclining her head to the younger girl. The princess has dark hair pinned up on top of her head and when the two spin, violet eyes catch in the torchlights in Aretuza’s ballroom.

“I’m sure it is, mage,” the princess says with a chuckle, eyes sparkling as she leads the two in their dance. “What do they call you again?”

“Tissaia de Vries, your highness.”

“Please, if you are to work in my court you may call me Andrea.”

Tissaia’s brow furrows and as the music comes to an end the two separate and curtsey to each other. “I do not think that’s appropriate, your highness.”

A hand clamps down on the princess’ shoulder. The princess inclines her head as her father says, “come, daughter, we travel early tomorrow.”

Tissaia curtseyed again as the King looked at her. “I shall be prepared to leave by first light, your majesty.”

King Rodak nods. “We shall see you in the morning then.”

.

.

.

Tissaia was wandering through the halls of King Rodak’s castle when the sharp clash of swords reached her ears. She had only been in the Kingdom for a week but the sound of sword play was common around this time. She paused by the window, and looked out to see the princess in riding breeches and a short tunic darting around the courtyard, sparring with one of the kingdom’s guards.

Tissaia was amused at the concentrated look on the young guard’s features as Andrea grinned, slashing and jabbing at the young man.

Andrea did not look fazed as she darted around the young man. Tissaia realized she was playing the young guard. She could have finished him minutes ago but was just toying with him. In a quick movement she ducks low and kicks out at the back of the guard’s legs, sending him sprawling. She pins him to the ground with the point of her sword against his jugular.

Tissaia watches as she keeps him there a moment before she pulls away and holds out her hand.

“Next time move quicker,” Andrea’s voice carries up to where Tissaia is watching.

The guard nods, taking her hand and she hoists him up. “Go again?”

Andrea chuckles, and shakes her head. “Duty calls, my father is expecting me at the council meeting.”

“I actually told her to meet me there half an hour before now,” King Rodak says from behind Tissaia. The mage jumps, whirling and hurrying into a curtsey. “Never mind that,” the King says, waving her off.

“My apologies, your majesty,” Tissaia replies, once again standing upright. “She is quite adept with a sword, though her punctuality leaves much to be desired.”

“She has been training her whole life to take over upon my death,” King Rodak says chuckling, starting to walk and beckoning Tissaia to follow him. “And I’m sure they taught you your duty at Aretuza. A mage is supposed to keep the kingdoms from war. But, should you fail, she needs to be prepared. Lead her right, is all I ask.”

Tissaia nods, following in step beside the King. “I will do my best, your majesty.”

“Father,” Andrea says, voice a little breathy as she slows her jog upon seeing her father. She pushes dark hair from her face and adjusts the hem of her tunic. “I’m not late for the council meeting am I?”

“It will not begin for some time,” Rodak says, eying his daughter.

She gapes, eyes narrowing. “I beg your pardon?”

“Your tardiness needs improvement. If I had told you the proper time, you would have been late. Perhaps you can learn from the mage while she is here. She is always punctual.” He steps closer to Tissaia, hand rising to rest on her lower back. 

Tissaia flushes at his hand and it is quickly followed by the telltale burn as the princess’ gaze moves to her. She looks up into violet eyes and Andrea’s lips quirk into a small frown as her gaze drops to her father’s hand placement.

“Perhaps the mage should come with me, to make sure I am on time and rush me along as I change into something more suitable,” Andrea suggests, looking up at her father.

He tilts his head before nodding. “I expect you in the council chambers soon, Andrea.”

Andrea nods, reaching for Tissaia’s arm and tugging her from her father’s hand. “Come, Tissaia. I would like your opinion on which gown is most suitable.”

“Of course, your highness,” Tissaia murmurs as she allows herself to be pulled further down the hall.

Andrea stops as they turn the corner and eyes Tissaia with a chuckle. “I will admit, Tissaia, your fashion sense is much different from mine.” She reaches, fingers snagging on the high collar of Tissaia’s gown. “Mostly, my father may seem the kingly type but he is a man with certain urges. Should you ever be left alone with him for too long he may request things of you that you do not wish to do.”

“I know my duty to your kingdom,” Tissaia murmurs, hands folding together at her waist. “Mages have performed these duties for many years, I have been taught to expect such advances.”

“Well, here, now, know that you have more than one option,” Andrea replies with a wink. Tissaia flushes. Andrea moves towards her room, throwing an amused look over her shoulder. “If you would still like to help me get prepared for the council meeting, you are more than welcome to.”

Tissaia pauses but follows shortly after.

.

.

.

“Princess?” Tissaia murmurs after knocking and slowly pushing the door open to Andrea’s private chambers. She sees the Princess sitting on the edge of her large bed, head in her hands, and shoulders shaking. “Andrea?”

Andrea glances up sharply, gaze only softening when she sees who it was. She wipes her eyes, taking a deep breath. “Sorry, Tissa, did they need me?”

Tissaia pauses, it’s the first time Andrea, or anyone for that matter, has called her that. She shakes her head. “No, nothing of the sort. I was just checking to make sure you were alright.”

Andrea chuckles ruefully, leaning back on her hands. “I’ve just inherited an entire kingdom, but at what cost? The only family I’ve ever known, my father, is dead.”

“I am sorry,” Tissaia whispers, hesitating near the foot of the bed. Andrea gestures for her to move closer and pats the edge of the bed beside her. Tissaia sits, back straight, hands folded in her lap. “I cannot begin to imagine how you are feeling.”

Andrea shrugs, sighing. “I’m not sure either. I now have to fully invest my time in monitoring the kingdom. I am now to be Queen in less than a week but my freedom has diminished. I just want something to call my own before having to give my all to my kingdom.”

Tissaia sucks in a sharp breath and she turns slightly to meet Andrea’s eye. Before she can talk herself out of it, she leans in, hand reaching to lightly rest against Andrea’s cheek, pressing a kiss to the corner of Andrea’s lips. Andrea’s eyes widen and Tissaia flushes under her gaze. 

“Something of your own, no one else can have,” Tissaia murmurs, standing. She moves for the door, fighting the ever-growing flush. “The ceremonial feast for King Rodak will begin by the next hour. I will see you down there.”

She glances back, just before slipping from the room and catches Andrea nodding, fingers pressing against her lips where Tissaia’s had been.

.

.

.

“I’m Queen now, Tissa,” Andrea says, smirking as she steps in close to the mage. She’s a good bit taller than Tissaia, so the mage has to look up to keep eye contact the closer the Queen gets to her. Every step towards her that Andrea takes Tissaia matches, stepping back until she gasps, her back hitting the wall. Andrea chuckles, leaning in close, breath whispering across Tissaia ear and causes a hitch in her throat. “I know you were worried about who would find out, but this is what you were sent for, right? To guide a wayward kingdom.” Andrea slowly takes Tissaia’s hands, giving her time to pull away, and when she doesn’t Andrea smiles gently, a twinkle to her violet eyes. “Guide me, Tissaia,” Andrea says, her own hands falling to Tissaia’s hips. “Show me what you’d like me to do.”

Tissaia shudders, groaning softly and when Andrea chuckles again Tissaia surges forward, pressing her lips to Andrea’s. She can feel the _I’m winning_ grin Andrea often sports against her lips and presses harder, hands rising to cup Andrea’s cheeks and keep her close. 

Tissaia can feel her chaos, her magic, bubbling against the insides of her skin, sharp and pressing everywhere Andrea’s hands travel. It lights a fire along her hips, her ribcage, the underside of her breast and around her back and Andrea tugs Tissaia harder against her. It bubbles until a sharp pain sears across her lips and Andrea yelps, jumping back. Her hand rising to prod gently at her own lip, tongue poking against it.

And Tissaia’s eyes are wide, breathing ragged as she slumps against the wall to keep herself upright, eying Andrea with pinched features, a creased brow, and a burn in her chest different to the one from moments before.

Andrea meets her eye and a moment passes between the two before Andrea laughs shortly, a little breathless and the glimmer in her eyes more pronounced. “Did you just shock me,” she says, laughing again.

“I’m sorry,” Tissaia murmurs, frowning and beginning to turn away. “I did not mean to lose control.”

Andrea’s hand under her chin stops her, tugging until blue eyes meet violet ones again. “Don’t be,” she replies, leaning in to press another kiss, shorter, against Tissaia’s lips. “I think it is cute you got so excited you lost a little bit of your control. If I touch you other places, will you lose more?” Her voice has lowered, husking against the skin of Tissaia’s neck as her next kiss lands against the crook of her shoulder.

“Princess, I really shouldn’t,” Tissaia murmurs, eyes slipping closed. 

She gasps, eyes flying open when sharp teeth nip at the skin of her throat. Andrea’s is grinning again, a brow raised. “Queen now. You’d do well to remember that, Tissa.”

“My Queen,” Tissaia amends. “I could hurt you.”

Andrea’s hands brace against the wall beside Tissaia’s head and she growls low as she molds her body along the front of Tissaia’s. “What is life without a little hurt? I want you, Tissaia. And I know you want me.”

Tissaia’s brow rises. “A little cocky are we?”

The Queen smirks, eyes dragging down Tissaia’s figure. But instead of answering she sighs and pulls away. “If you do not want to, I will respect that wish. I will not force myself on you, no matter how much I want this to happen. It is up to you, Tissaia. Whatever you would like to do, I am ready and willing.” She takes another measured step back, where she’s just out of reach and spreads her hands and arms, waiting for Tissaia’s response.

.

.

.

“Come now, Tissa,” Andrea whispered in the mage’s ear as she passed. She grinned as Tissaia shivered, her jaw clicking as she snapped her teeth shut. “I never lose.”

Andrea was right of course. She was one of the best trained in the kingdom, possibly the Continent. Shortly after her father’s passing she decided it was high time she married, perhaps in an attempt to grow her slowly diminishing kingdom. She’d ordered Tissaia to send word to neighbouring Kingdom’s to send their prince’s in a duel against the Queen for her hand in marriage. At the beginning of this day, the Queen had declared that the prince who could best her, would gain her hand in marriage. Most of the princes scoffed, sure they would be able to best this young Queen. Shortly after they would be knocked from their high-horses and leave the arena with too many bruises to count, their egos worse for the wear.

But, as Andrea fought a prince only a few years older than herself, Tissaia saw the grin that erupted across the Queen’s features. With one fell swoop, sweeping the legs of the prince from under him, tip of the sword pressing ever so slightly against the hollow of his throat, Andrea once again claimed victory.

This time however, when Andrea offered her hand to help the prince up, as she had done for every man who fought before him, this prince took her hand, unlike all who had ignored it before him. And he was grinning too, and he bowed to the Queen.

Andrea held up her hand, and Tissaia’s heart clenched. She knew the reason Andrea chose a duel. Andrea herself knew there was little doubt she would lose and so it was a test within a test. How one took a loss was telling of their character, and those who refused her hand had glared and muttered and stomped about like children. She had dismissed them immediately.

“Prince Torran of Skellige has won the duel for my hand in marriage,” the Queen’s voice booms across the courtyard. “Festivities are to commence in a few hours, please, all are welcome to view the union between our Kingdoms.”

“But I did not best you, your majesty,” the tall man murmurs, confusion flicking across his features as the courtyard begins to clear out.

Andrea shakes her head, smiling gently at the man. “Twas not the point of the duel. Honour above all shows most clearly following a defeat.”

His eyes flood with understanding and he bows, taking one of the Queen’s hands gently and bending to kiss her knuckles. “Then I shall leave you to prepare for our marriage ceremony.”

Andrea inclines her head, turning from the man, her eyes meeting Tissaia’s. And Tissaia’s chest is tight, lungs burning as the Queen beckons her to follow.

.

.

.

“Your time in my Kingdom will never be forgotten,” Andrea whispered, pushing dark hair back from her face. She stepped closer to Tissaia, cupping her cheek. “I know you feel you must return to Aretuza, but you will always be welcome in my home.”

Tissaia pulls away, eying Andrea as she gives her the space she wants and steps back, hand falling to her swollen belly. It had been several years since her union with Torran and only now their first child was to be born.

Andrea reaches up, unclasping the chain around her neck which held the pendant sporting her Kingdom’s crest. She steps around Tissaia, and clasps the pendant around Tissaia’s neck. Andrea’s fingers linger at the nape of her neck, brushing against the fine hairs there, a shudder ripples through her and she bites her lip, eyes falling closed.

“So you will always have a piece of your first placement following Aretuza,” Andrea says, voice a low murmur. She sighs and Tissaia knows the woman she had watched grow up wants to say more. She hopes, perhaps, the woman wants to say _to have a piece of me to remember._ She wants the woman to say _please stay, for me._

But alas, the Queen says nothing. Ever dutiful, never pushing Tissaia further than she knew the mage would agree to.

“Thank you, my Queen,” Tissaia murmurs, fingers grazing against the pendant that had always hung around the other woman’s neck.

.

.

.

It had been years. Tissaia, while she taught at Aretuza, always kept tabs on the Kingdom she had found herself in. Queen Andrea had given birth to a son and another a few years later, their kingdom had undergone a few wars, and Torran had died on the battlefield. The Kingdom’s new mage kept her informed, and it was the new mage who summoned Tissaia when Andrea was on her death bed, injured following a battle.

Tissaia had portalled there at once, appearing right in Andrea’s bedchambers. It startled both the new mage and Andrea’s sons.

“Give us the room,” Andrea rasped, nodding when her son turned to her. The mage and her sons nodded, leaving just the two in the room.

Immediately Tissaia strode towards the bed, kneeling by the head of it and stroking grey hair from Andrea’s face. She glances down at the wound, the blood pouring from the cut on her side.

“I was not sure you’d come,” Andrea murmurs, a shaking hand reaching for the pendant, ever-present, hanging around Tissaia’s neck.

“Of course I would come,” Tissaia whispers.

Andrea smiles softly, coughing as she struggles to sit up a little. “You have not aged a day.”

Tissaia frowns, it’s the first time hearing that sentence has settled a pit in her stomach. “Some may call that a curse.”

“I call it a blessing that the Continent will still hold Tissaia de Vries for many years to come,” Andrea admits. She’s silent a moment and gestures for Tissaia to sit on the edge of the grand bed. “I have a request, if you will permit it after years not in my service.”

“Anything,” Tissaia says before she can stop herself. She must look contrite for Andrea’s famous _I’m winning_ grin splits her weathered features.

“Watch after my bloodline. You do not have to interfere but know where they are on the continent. I have much love for my family and I know you’ll be alive much longer then my days permit. Just check in every once and awhile.”

Tissaia looks into violet eyes, sees the resolution of Andrea’s end coming soon and nods. “I will do my best.”

.

.

.

Tissaia had practiced control, knew the look on her features never wavered from a neutral look.

But she almost broke as she looked down at the girl with a crooked spine on the floor of a pigpen. The girl’s dark hair was cropped roughly and when she looked at Tissaia, her violet eyes were distrusting.

Tissaia swallowed minutely as her voice remained smooth. “How much for this beast?”

“ _Six marks.”_

She could not believe this is where Andrea’s bloodline had ended up, where it would end for good following the girl’s conduit moment. “Four.”

“ _I won’t go.”_ The girl in the pigpen looks resolute, a shaky glare forming. So the girl had not just inherited the dark hair and violet eyes, but also Andrea’s attitude, her spitfire.

.

.

.

“ _No,”_ Tissaia whispers when she sees Yennefer with slit wrists laying on the floor of her chamber room. This is not where Andrea’s bloodline ended. Not with some foolish girl who was too stubborn for her own good, who thought death was where she needed to be. 

Tissaia frowned as she healed the girl, her wrists slowly healing, skin lightly scarring. She wrapped the girl’s wrist and sat beside her, the girl snuffling in her unconscious state. She paused as she looked down at the girl, stroking dark hair from the girl’s face.

In the couple hundred years since Andrea died and her bloodline had continued, this girl here looked the most like her. Yennefer had both Andrea’s dark hair and the violet eyes, ones Tissaia had not seen in her bloodline until now.

She would not lose this girl, if Tissaia promised anything it was that Andrea’s bloodline did not end in this kind of death.

.

.

.

“Close your eyes, picture the most powerful woman, the strength of her posture, her eyes,” Tissaia murmured. Sometimes, she could not see Andrea past the crooked spine, the distended jaw. But she could not help the soft smile as the image projects onto the mirror. It’s almost a spitting image of Andrea, and this could be a dangerous game. If Yennefer looked this much like Andrea, Tissaia would have a hard time trying to separate herself from this girl who just wanted to be cared for by someone.

.

.

.

“ _Everything. I want everything._ ”

Tissaia’s lips purse, hands clasped tightly in front of her. Coming to Rinde had been a bad idea. Seeking out Yennefer’s chaos, well, Tissaia shook her head thinking on it now. She turned, smoothing invisible wrinkles, humming.

“I gave you all I could give.”

She gasps as her wrist is grabbed and she’s spun around. Yennefer looms over her, a smirk on her lips as her gaze drops to Tissaia’s.

“See I do not think you have, Rectoress,” Yennefer husks, her finger curls under Tissaia’s chin, forcing the shorter woman’s gaze to keep. “I see the look you get, when you think no one is looking. I remind you of someone,” she hums when Tissaia’s eyes flash. “A lover perhaps?”

Tissaia growls, breaking her wrist from Yennefer’s grasp and turning away. “Do not speak on things you know nothing of.”

“But I do know, don’t I? I got it exactly right. Who was she?”

Tissaia shakes her head, jaw clenching, hands fisting. The drapes begin to shift in a torrent of wind, the mirror Yennefer had been using cracks, and Yennefer and Tissaia stand in the center of this storm. “No,” Tissaia murmurs, so faint Yennefer can barely hear her.

Yennefer, never one to stand by and do nothing, is rather alarmed by Tissaia’s loss of control. She reaches for Tissaia, grabbing her round once more.

Tissaia's eyes are wide, searching Yennefer’s features.

“Tissaia,” Yennefer begins. The other mage is there, but not really.

 _This was a bad idea_ , Tissaia says silently, lips unmoving, speaking through a mind link. She surges forward before Yennefer can say a thing, hands cupping Yennefer’s cheeks, pressing their lips together.

Yennefer gasps at the images being forced into her mind, at the mouth moving against her own, lips softer than Yennefer had ever imagined. A young princess with violet eyes, a young woman fighting beside her men, a queen being coronated. An old monarch, lying on her deathbed. A loss of control that burned forests to the ground when news of death finally came. _Andrea._

The name cried into her mind, Tissaia’s hands grasping at her. There is a wetness against Yennefer’s cheeks, and they are not her own tears.

Abruptly, Tissaia pulls away, a gasping sob falling from her lips. Her hands flutter, immediately finding the pendant around her neck, thumb worrying along a worn out insignia.

“Tissaia,” Yennefer whispers, seeing Tissaia truly for the first time.

And just like that, the emotional Tissaia is gone, the cold Mistress of Aretuza returning. Tissaia takes a deep breath, waving a hand. A portal opens behind her and she moves towards it. 

“Tissaia, wait,” Yennefer says, voice rising.

But she steps through and is gone.

And Yennefer still does not know who Andrea is.

  
  
  
  



End file.
